


where the sun sets

by primaveril



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 23 Days of Wonder, Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Compliant, Day 11: First Snow, Fluff, M/M, Pining, its not rly ambiguous but it Can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28158390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveril/pseuds/primaveril
Summary: Donghyuck thinks of Mark when December freezes over.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	where the sun sets

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my drabble for a little wonder fest’s 23 Days of Wonder ^.^  
> i suck really badly with deadlines so i started writing this a week ago just so i could post on time lol i really hope you all like this sweet little nothing!  
> expect to see me again soon :]

Mark loves easily, too easily. Or maybe Haechan’s just easy to love.

He only groans when a skinny-soft body drapes itself all over him, bony knees and warm skin knocking into many places before Mark has even opened his eyes or acknowledged the fact he’s awake, clock ticking too far from 5AM for his tastes. Thick-tongued, he murmurs  _ Hyuck?  _ below the covers, hearing the tell-tale chuckle he’s known for so long.

“Hi  _ hyung, _ ” and they’re lucky Mark shares his room with a manager that’s not very keen on sleeping at the dorms, because someone would’ve surely scolded them for making noise so early in such a cold morning; not even the weighted blanket stops the goosebumps from raising Mark’s skin, and he really wants to cuddle his best friend into the bed until he’s warm again. 

“Wha’ya want, Duckie?” 

Another chuckle, and Haechan wiggles around until he’s so close Mark can feel his breathing fan across his cheek. “I wanna show you something.”

This is the moment Mark understands what “lovesickness” is. If anyone else had asked him to wake up at impossibly early in the morning – he’s pretty sure the sun is still behind the horizon – just to see something, he would’ve told them to fuck right off and went back to sleep. Right now, though, when he can hear the smile in Donghyuck’s voice and he’s sure his little eyes are all round and shiny, he doesn’t have the heart to say no. Instead, he blindly searches for his hand, gently curling his fingers around the younger’s wrist to tug him a little closer.

“Can I see it later?” His voice comes out whiny, and he really hopes Haechan lets him off the hook this time. “‘M too sleepy.”

How foolish. Of course there’s no way he’s going back to blissful unconsciousness when the younger is clearly excited and wide awake, so it’s not a surprise when ever-impatient Donghyuck rips the covers off of Mark’s head, revealing messy hair and sticky eyes, a chapped pout that’s too cute for the older’s own good. “C’mon! Get up! You’re gonna like it, I promise.”

Shirtless and exposed, the cold nips at him like a playful dog, and he whines a little more. On top of him, Donghyuck looks glorious, puffy eyes and dry, damaged hair making him look younger, softer, shirt drowning his lithe figure. Mark’s heart thuds painfully in his chest; he’ll dance with the devil for this boy, and this thought cements itself in his subconscious as he groggily slips a hoodie over his head, heated floorboards allowing him to walk around without hissing in pain, the younger watching him with excited eyes and a hand already gripping the door handle.

There’s always sunrise in his voice. “I really think you’re going to like this,  _ hyung. _ ”

Mark doesn’t say anything, and Haechan reads the fondness in his expression like an open book. They quietly navigate Mark’s dorm, a hand gently guiding him by the wrist all times, the elevator dinging softly as they reach the tenth floor and rush to the living room Taeyong keeps neat and tidy, plants a brilliant green against the pale walls. Something catches in Mark’s throat when Donghyuck pushes the flimsy curtains open, something sticky and suffocating.

The sky is cotton candy sweet, clouds stretching towards the horizon like angels’ hands, desperate for warmth as December crawls to a frozen end. In the quiet morning light, so faint he could catch it in his palms, the world seems to be losing contrast, blue-lilacs and pink-peaches softened by delicate dawn, and he’s seen this many times, on different skylines and different continents: the fuzzy rise of a sluggish sun, the dense air, the cold turning his ears and nose strawberry-red, the giddiness that starts to burn under his diaphragm, almost a child on Christmas day.

It’s the first snow.

Mark has never been a winter child, not one to live for the inky-dark nights and bone-rattling days, forever bound to summertime and the glow of the sun, but  _ this  _ – the faded morning, the smell of fresh snow, the coziness of his home –, he feels safe. Small. Delicate. It makes him think of his life in Canada, where the land is always a bit frozen and his mother would hug him to her warm chest on the colder days, rub his chubby arms until his teeth stopped throbbing and he could feel his hands again. It makes him think of New York City, with its gray skies and gloomy atmosphere, the city a giant concrete shoebox: it snows, everything blanketed in pure white, and it’s a little more magical, a little more exhilarating.

His eyes blow wide, taking in the little snowflakes as they slowly descend from the clouds, taking in the thin carpet of white that covers the lawns, glittering with the faint sunlight. By his side, Donghyuck shifts closer, upper arm bumping against Mark’s.

“I think of you when it snows,” he’s almost timid, speaking softly as to not wake anyone. “So I brought you to see it.”

Mark releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He turns to look at the younger, tan skin and endless warmth, and he knows Haechan is a summer child just like him, but he feels ten times brighter, sunnier, like he could make flowers bloom. He also has a heart big enough to swallow the world, to shed layer after layer like a burning star, to make Mark feel hot despite the winter slipping in through the cracks on the walls. He’s a summer child, lighting up the room and so,  _ so  _ easy to love.

Weak, he doesn’t know how to respond. “You do?”

“You once told me snow makes you miss Canada,” Donghyuck avoids his gaze, turns to look outside the window. The sky slowly grays, clouds closing in. “I think that’s a good thing. I miss Jeju too, sometimes.” He stops. Swallows. His ears are champagne-rose pink. “But it also makes me…”

_ Scared,  _ Mark catches in the thin air.  _ Apprehensive. _

Maybe it’s because he’s still half-asleep, almost comfortable in his hoodie and sweatpants, edges too soft to keep his walls up, so he winds an arm around Donghyuck’s shoulders and pulls him in, tucking him right into his chest. The younger can definitely hear the uneven beats, the odd thrumming of an easy heart, can feel the sticky syrup pooling all over Mark’s insides, but he doesn’t care — not now, when the world slowly dims and he feels as if the sun hides under the arch of his throat, lips pressed on the divot of his collarbones, shyly circling his arms around Mark’s waist.

(It’s too close and not enough. He wants Donghyuck to melt against him, wants the younger to slip under his skin all sunlit and angelical, make room for himself between Mark’s ribs and lungs, bones curving like flower stems around his pretty form. Maybe it’s gross, to think of his best friend like this; the way Donghyuck presses closer, buries himself a little deeper, tells him it’s okay. They’ll be okay.)

Mark kisses the crown of Haechan’s head. “It’s true it makes me think of Canada, but I’m here now. This is my home.”

_ Here, with you. You in my arms as the snow falls outside. You and I as the world freezes over, soft and mellow. _

He feels lips ghost over his skin, a little chapped, a little sweet, sending a shiver through his body. “Thank you,” and it’s just a little broken thing, spoken as a sigh through smiling lips. Mark smiles with him.

Outside, the weak sun is swallowed by snowfall, horizon a blurred line where sky meets city. Mark squeezes Donghyuck a little closer, nostalgia nipping at his ankles, but it feels good. It feels right.

Christmas will come, gentle and twinkling, and so will New Years, and 2021. They’ll hold each other close through it all.

_ The sun might rise in the East, _ he thinks.  _ But it sets in Donghyuck’s chest.  _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i hope you all enjoyed it ^.^  
> i feel like this is ambiguous but also not, still i decided to tag it anyways in case anyone thinks haechan isn’t pining just like mark oops  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/pyuhc) | [cc.](https://curiouscat.qa/dawnfruits)


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